The weekend arrived, relentless as ever, a stark reminder that ti never slowed for anyone.
Grace stood before the mirror, adjusting her outfit one last ti before heading out.
She had chosen sothing subtle yet elegant, nothing too eye-catching—just enough to look presentable without drawing suspicion.
Turning to her husband, she offered a gentle smile.
"I'll be out for a while. An old classmate from high school wants to catch up," she said casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Ted glanced up from his phone, nodding without a hint of doubt.
"Okay, see you later, love. Take care."
He didn't ask who this classmate was, whether it was a man or a woman.
He trusted her completely, never once entertaining the thought that his wife—the woman he cherished—was about to be taken by another man.
As soon as she stepped outside, Grace pulled out a pair of oversized sunglasses and carefully placed them on her face.
She even put on a face mask, as if she were so kind of celebrity sneaking away from prying eyes.
It was a pointless precaution—Ross had already assured her that no one would ever find out.
He was ticulous, covering their tracks so thoroughly that even the sharpest detective wouldn't be able to uncover the truth.
The city bustled around her, but Grace barely noticed. Her heart pounded, not with guilt, but with great fear.
She feared that this wouldn't be the first ti Ross would ask this of her and so she prepared herself for a world full of pain.
At exactly one o'clock, she arrived at their eting place—a five-star hotel known only to the wealthiest elite, where privacy was not just a luxury but a guarantee.
Stepping into the grand lobby, she walked past crystal chandeliers and marble floors, her heels clicking softly against the polished surface.
She knew where to go.
Ross has specifically detailed where she needed to be and even the staff of the hotel just looked at her with a knowing smile which made her uncomfortable to the extre.
And as she approached the elevator, her pulse quickened. Ross was waiting.
She t him in a spacious, dimly lit room, where a grand dining table stretched across the center, laden with an extravagant feast.
The air was thick with the aroma of freshly prepared delicacies—succulent roasted ats, exotic seafood, rich desserts, and bottles of the finest wine.
It was the kind of al fit for royalty, yet Grace felt no appetite, only a growing sense of unease.
Ross sat at the head of the table, his presence commanding even in his relaxed posture. He gestured toward the spread with a smirk.
"Eat. You'll need all the energy you can get for what cos next."
Grace remained standing, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She t his gaze with an expression of cold indifference.
"I'm not hungry. Just get this over with. Do whatever it is you want so I can go ho to my husband."
Her voice was steady, but inside, she wished for this night to end as quickly as possible.
Deep down, she clung to the desperate hope that once Ross had taken what he wanted, he would lose interest in her and move on to another woman—soone else who would catch his fancy, soone else who would have to endure this.
Ross leaned back in his chair, studying her. His smirk never wavered.
"Fine. But sit. I don't like eating alone."
For a long mont, Grace remained motionless, considering whether to defy him.
But in the end, she exhaled quietly and pulled out a chair, settling into it without a word.
She had no intention of eating, but if humoring him for a while ant hastening the inevitable, she would play along.
Ross, on the other hand, wasted no ti.
He tore into the al with an almost ravenous hunger, his movents swift and unrestrained.
He ate with an intensity that was both srizing and unsettling, devouring everything in sight without a hint of restraint.
Grace watched in silence, her stomach twisting. It was as if he hadn't eaten in days, yet she knew that wasn't the case.
In truth, Ross didn't need food or drink at all—he was beyond such mortal necessities.
But he indulged anyway, as if clinging to a habit long ingrained in him.
Perhaps it was nostalgia. A way to remind himself of the life he once lived before he beca… whatever he was now.
To abandon this indulgence would be to sever another tie to his humanity, and maybe, in his own way, he wasn't ready to let go of that.
An hour passed before Ross finally set his utensils down.
He had consud nearly everything ant for two, leaving behind nothing but empty plates and discarded bones.
With a satisfied sigh, he reached for a bottle of wine, uncorked it, and raised it to his lips.
He drank straight from the bottle, tilting his head back as the deep red liquid poured down his throat.
He didn't stop, didn't pause, until the very last drop was gone.
Then, with slow, deliberate movents, he set the empty bottle down with a soft clink against the table.
His gaze shifted to Grace, a glint of amusent flickering in his eyes.
She stiffened, gripping the edge of her chair. The mont she had been dreading had finally arrived.
"Now, onto the main course. Co, Grace—I'm sure we'll both have a good ti," Ross said, his voice smooth and confident.
He strode toward the massive bed, a predatory gleam in his eyes, and without a care, he threw himself onto the plush mattress.
Sprawled out comfortably, he propped himself up on one elbow, watching her with amusent, waiting for her to move.
For a mont, Grace remained frozen in place.
Every instinct in her body scread at her to turn around and leave.
But she knew she couldn't. She'd die first before anything bad could happen to her husband.
This was how much she loved the man she married.
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